Memorial Day 2011

"What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world."
 - Robert E. Lee, letter to his wife, 1864

Red Poppy - Georgia O'Keeffe, 1927
Oil on canvas, private collection

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

Granary Burial Ground, Boston, Massachusetts

On Looking Up





The Visitors - Weldon Spring, 2011

BirdWings

Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror

up to where you’re bravely working.

Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,

here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.

if it were always a fist or always stretched open,

you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting

and expanding,

The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated

as birdwings.

Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Selene

we don't see the jagged edges of the moon.

her luscious soft light bouncing in the night

she rules with a light touch unlike her lover

hot sun

night and day melt into each other

until we dream that they are one divine undivided whole

W.Bryce Riley

The Weavers

Through the warp and the weft

they are there.

Through the inhale and the exhale

they are there.

Through the zenith and nadir

they are there.

As the birds that soar and tilt and float

they are there.

The tapestry is large,

The work unceasing,

Yet, you do not work alone.

Look up!

They are there.

Joellen Floyd Lucas

"Lark Ascending"  by Ralph Vaughn Williams, played by Michael Bochmann and the English Symphony Orchestra. Please enjoy.

How Can I Keep From Singing?

"Move forward, embrace the moment, love & live life."

- Lizzy Frizzfrock



Eleanor Joyce Floyd
1924 - 2011



 

A Grandmother's Love -- Charlotte and Eleanor
March, 2011

Today, I hope you sing.

Carnival of the Animals

"Lots of people talk to animals.... Not very many listen, though.... That's the problem."
- Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh

I can be so oblivious. Really, it takes no effort at all for me to completely miss signals, signs, and messages sent to me. Sometimes the universe just has to scream, "Would you please stop for a minute and listen?"

Well, yesterday, the universe screamed. On my walk, I encountered many more animals than I usually do...

Brother Heron was there, along with two Canada Geese. The heron allowed me to get very very close to him

...almost sharing a bench with me. His friend, the goose, looked very swanlike as he glided toward me. He seemed very proud of himself.

Suddenly, two other animals appeared and frightened everyone away...

 They found it quite fun to terrorize the poor birds...I don't blame the dog, though.

I returned to my walk, and ran into a lovely young lady named Sarah, who was only too proud to introduce me to her friend, Scout...

and show me what a clever friend he is.

And of course there were lots of the usual two and four-legged animals..

I had lunch with my friends yesterday at the amazingly wonderful Chocolate Cafe and Coffee House in O'Fallon. It was a perfectly wonderful afternoon, and we ate our salads and sandwiches and Java Mocha Chocolate Chip Gooey Butter Cake (what a mouthful...literally and figuratively!) al fresco. As we finished our delights, guess who we saw? Brother Heron, who flew directly over our astonished heads!

I returned home just before Little Scholar got off the school bus. I fixed him a peanut butter and banana sandwich as he told me about his day. He became quite animated as he told me about the exciting "listening game" his music teacher had played. The teacher had played excerpts of music and the children were asked to name what animal might be described by it. "Yia-Yia," he said, "Do you know that a clarinet can sound just like a cuckoo bird?"

I stopped slicing bananas and asked, "Was there a rooster and fish and a donkey in the music, too?"

"Yes!" he replied.  "It's all about the animals!"

"Carnival of the Animals?" I asked. "By Camille Saint-Saëns?"

"That's it!" said the Little Scholar, whereupon we went back to the afternoon rush of activities.

Last night, it came to my attention (thanks to a very kind and patient friend who spends a lot of time explaining the obvious to me) that I have animal spirit guides who have been trying to speak to me.  Duh. As I said, I can be really oblivious.. Oh yeah, it's all about the animals.

I will pay more attention now to both of the animals who have been trying to reach out to me; the small white lamb who has appeared to me in meditations recently, and the graceful heron, who has befriended me since my mother's passing.

Sometimes, we are perceptive enough to pick up these messages on our own. Sometimes, it takes a village...or in my case, a carnival.

I hope you pick up your messages today. ♥

Of course, the music selection today is from "Le Carnaval des Animaux (The Carnival of the Animals)" by Camille Saint-Saëns. It is a musical suite of fourteen movements composed in 1886. The composer thought it to be of little significance at the time, and allowed only one movement to be published in his lifetime. The others were published posthumously, and the work is widely known through many pieces in pop culture today.

This selection is called 'Le Cygne (The Swan)', and is the one movement that Saint-Saëns deemed worthy of serious consideration.

Usually performed as a piece for cello and piano, YoYo Ma would be the natural go-to guy for this work, but alas, I cannot post his masterful performance posted on YouTube. Not very sharing of him, is it?

Second place (of course, I'm always looking for the live performance videos to share with you, as opposed to the music recordings + photos) goes to this one by renowned cellist Misha Quint and pianist Svetlana Gorokovich.  Enjoy. 

After the Rain

"Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply...."
- Edna St Vincent Millay

Take a Bow - Reya Mellicker, digital photograph, 2011

The rain came in uneasy waves through the night, each storm more insistent than the one before it. The charged skies cackled constantly like hags on their brooms, and the drops of rain tapped incessantly on the bedroom window.

I rose to watch the skies, and wondered at the sight. Thunderstorms at any time are impressive to watch, but at night, one must use all the senses to see clearly.

I stepped out onto the deck out back by the woods, and felt that fresh, clean, breezy air that always seems to arrive with a storm. The scent of the rain was clear, too, and I found myself wondering why the rain smells the way it does. Arcs of lightning flashed above the treetops, thunder ruptured the silence, and the rain came down in earnest.

There is a funny little tinge of fear I feel as a storm begins, and isn't that a primal feeling? It's a feeling of awe at the unknown and uncontrollable, I think, and probably a universal feeling. Do you feel it, too?

Just as universal as the fear before the storm is the peace we feel after the rain. The world is washed clean, the air is sweet, and we feel the soft stillness left by the storm. Oh, what a beautiful feeling it is after the rain. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

I don't know how long this peace will last...well into the morning, I hope. But for now, I'll appreciate each beautiful, quiet, clean, precious moment of "after the rain."

A great big thank you to my sweet friend, Reya, for allowing me to use her exquisite photograph for this post. To see more of her astounding photography, go to her blog, The Gold Puppy.

Another big thank you to a dear friend in the ballet world, Amy T., for the video you are about to see.

Amy is a wonderful ballet teacher in Ohio, and says about this piece, "...Every great once in a while we get to feel like we are the wind, the ocean, and the sun, and make others believe it and take them on that journey along with us."

Well said, Amy.

I know you'll feel the beautiful peace of "After the Rain" as I did. Enjoy.


This is Damian Smith and Yuan Yuan Tan of San Francisco Ballet in "After The Rain" choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon, and performed at the Fire Island Dance Festival in 2010. The music is "Spiegel Im Spiegel." from the album "Alina," by Arvo Part.

 

Ambushed

"Who can hope to be safe? Who sufficiently cautious? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush." - Horace


The Ambush - Albert Bierstadt, Oil on canvas, 1876 

Whooeey. Horace got that right. Every moment's an ambush.

I was ambushed yesterday. Wow, it took me by surprise, this wave of frustration and helplessness and futility at the circumstances surrounding me lately. It came out of nowhere and knocked the breath right out of me.

I've done lots of work in the last year or so on my practice of meditation, and thought I had come a long way in learning to separate myself from certain emotions. I've learned to acknowledge them, release them, and move back to a position of neutrality or 'emptiness'. It's been very healthy and healing for me.

Imagine my shock, then, at the surprise attack of...well, wrath that overtook me yesterday.  THIS IS SO UNFAIR!  

I was nothing short of "Sybil" yesterday, exhibiting extremely different personalities with each person I encountered.

I was a kind and Sympathetic Clara Barton Yia-Yia to my sick Little Beauty as she endured several more bouts with "Ivan the Terrible and his Tummy Rumblers" (story to follow some day with illustrations by his victim). I wiped her brow and stroked her soft golden hair, and offered an occasional cracker with her cartoons.

I was an Engaged Yia-Yia to the Little Scholar, who is gamely spending his cycle break from school in quarantine with the rest of the household in an attempt to squelch an epidemic. [Cycle break is the term for the 3-week break in between each 9-week cycle of classes for his year-round school. This break has been honed down to two weeks in order to make up for all the snow days this year.] I admired his lego creations, read Hardy Boys with him, and fixed him cookies and milk. Yay, me.

I was the Overworked Housewench, still trying to seek out and destroy any lurking virus in our midst. I actually even tried to 'get into the head' of Ivan the Terrible to imagine where he might be, waiting to ambush his next victim. (After all, this is the menace keeping me from being at my own mother's side right now...he must be vanquished so that I can be with her.) Goodness, it really is getting ridiculously obssessive...chapped hands, the ever present smell of bleach, and piles of sanitized and neatlyfolded laundry everywhere. Wait...did I clean that closet doorknob yet?

I was the Wise Mother of Adults, having very grown up conversations about work and world situations with The Scholar and his older brother, the Young Titan of Business. 

I was doing okay. I thought.

Suddenly out of nowhere, Sybil, the Indignant and Angry Sister, appeared and ambushed me. She was followed closely by a rogue's gallery of miscreants, including the Sorrowfully Misunderstood Sybil, who soon morphed into the Distraught,Weepy, Needy Wife personality during a phone conversation with her on-a-business-trip husband, and finally, the I'll Think of This Tomorrow Scarlett O'Hara Sybil.  

Yikes. It's exhausting being Sybil.

I guess we're all exhausted, needing a break that no one can take and answers that no one can find. I'll try hard to remember that.

I'll get back to my meditation and try to double the dosage during this rainy season. I guess I have more negativity to release than I realized. I'll try to remember to breathe deeply. I'll be more gentle with myself and with others who have no more control over the situation than I. I hope.

Most of all, I'll remember that every moment's an ambush. Anything can happen to any one of us at any moment in time. I will appreciate this moment. I will. 

I hope you live each moment today with intent.


I usually try to find music that will comfort, soothe, or entertain, but not today. Noooo, today requires the firey tempestuous mood of yesterday. That mood can only be explained by Verdi's "Requiem: Dies Irae" (meaning "Day of Wrath"). It's really all about the day of reckoning, but has all the feel of being ambushed and the feeling of wrath that accompanies it. I won't say, "enjoy" as I usally do, but maybe "Appreciate" instead.

This is one of the finest interpretations I've ever heard. Claudio Abbado conducts the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in 2002 in this very small but profound snippet from the Requiem.

At the Ballet

"But everything was beautiful at the ballet..."
Sheila from "A Chorus Line"



Fin d'Arabesque, with Ballerina Rosita Mauri
Edgar Degas,1877, Oil on canvas, Musée d’Orsay

Like everyone else, I have my share of problems. More than some, but far fewer than most. I have the blessings of good health, abundant food, warm shelter, and a loving family. How much richer could I be?

I try to put my troubles into perspective, keeping each one separated from the others. Divide and conquer, you know? Little by little they can be sorted out, taken and looked at logically, worked on and worked out. Usually.

Every so often, though, Troubles decide to gang up together into a big troublesome wad and hurl themselves into your midst without warning to see what havoc they can create. Splat! It hurts.

And so it has been for the last few weeks. Just when one issue seems to be resolved, another one pops up to take its place. Then another. And another. It’s been a big ole’ game of “Whack a Mole” around here lately.

Yesterday, it all went away for a while. All the problems, all the anxiety, and all the difficulties melted away.

I went to the ballet.

I was tempted not to go. I had planned to accompany my four year old Little Beauty to see the performance, but she contracted a nasty tummy bug that I nicknamed “Ivan the Terrible” and cancelled (wisely) on me. Poor baby.

I was feeling spent myself, tired of the hustle and bustle and back and forth and sickness and logistics and wondering where I would be needed the most. Maybe I would just stay home after all.

But I knew that a dear friend would be acknowledged at the performance, receiving an award for her artistic contributions as costume designer for the last ten years or so at the ballet company. I’ve held many pins for her through the years, and learned so much about the mix of artistry and engineering that goes into building costumes (yes, costumes are ‘built’ not ‘sewn’ as Jude taught me), and with each pin I’ve handed to Jude Bonnot over the years, my estimation for her has grown. I had to be there to see her receive her well-deserved accolade.

Don’t you love it when you make the right choice?

I went to the ballet and had the most wonderful time. The production was amazing, a tribute to the gifted artistic staff from Alexandra Ballet, the gifted dancers (of course), and the scores of volunteers who contribute to the effort.

The MainStage production this year was a repertory show, which is a grouping of small pieces put into a cohesive unit, rather than the usual story ballet (like Cinderella or Swan Lake). Five beautiful pieces of differing style and mood made up this season’s “Gems of the Ballet” and what a shining gem of a production it was!

Here is a photo of the bows taken after the performance of the first piece, Paquita, in which every single dancer wore a custom creation made by Jude Bonnot. This is what's called a "complete build" and you are only seeing a fraction of the scores of costumes made for this one selection.

It was a lengthy show with two intermissions (everyone certainly got their money’s worth for this one!), and as I visited with the company’s Artistic Director during one of them, she was kind enough to invite me over to the cast party following this final performance.

It took a nanosecond to accept the invitation, though I knew I’d be an unplanned guest of the company, and might cause some difficulty to the planners. If it didn’t feel right, I’d just say a quick hello to a few friends and beat a hasty retreat.

Right decision, again. The gracious chair of the planning committee could not have been kinder. She placed me at a table with old and new friends (which, of course, is the perfect combination), arranged for my dinner, and made me feel like a guest of honor. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Karen!

Ballet people know how to throw a party. I've told you that before, but it bears saying again. If you are ever invited to a party connected with  the ballet world in any way... go. It's a guaranteed great time.

The idea here is transcendence. The production itself took me out of my reality for two hours, long enough to restore my psyche. The music took my mind to a place of order and beauty. As if time traveling, the stories of the ballets transported me to places of intrigue, charm, lovely gardens, and humorous vignettes. The party afterward was a place in which I could reconnect with old friends and enjoy making new ones.

The afternoon and evening was truly a tonic for my soul.

If you find yourself beset with troubles, I hope you are able to find a recipe that works for you like ballet works for me.We sometimes are not even aware how very badly we need the respite from those troubles. Music, dance, reading, walking...how do you transcend the everyday?

Today, I hope you transcend all your troubles...at least for a while.

This little video snippet is of Alexandra Ballet Company dancer, Makensie Howe, who has accepted a contract to dance professionally next season with Houston Ballet II. It has been an honor to see this lovely young lady grow up, and she will be sorely missed next year. As it is with any great training company, we must become accustomed to saying goodbye, and come to the understanding that our loss is the ballet world's gain. Godspeed to you, Makensie, and come back soon to perform as a guest artist!

Coexisting...Rhapsodic

"Three Nudes and One Violin" - Pablo Picasso
Painted during his Blue Period

"Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands."

 ~  Ralph Waldo Emerson


Picasso was a classically trained painter who wasn't afraid to embrace new ideas. As is evident in his extensive body of work, he never abandoned his classical foundation. How could he? It was part of him. He simply coexisted with it as his work evolved.

After yesterday's question regarding the dilemma of real vs. virtual books, I realized that I'm not the only one who has experienced it. I'm just the one who made it difficult.

I have the most awesome, patient friends. As I learned from them, the considerations for the Kindle and its like are mostly practical. Using less precious paper. Using less precious shelf space. Traveling more lightly. I acknowledge the advantages, and will open my mind to them. Using one does not necessitate denying the other. Thank you for your wisdom, all!

Like everything else, the appearance of the e-reader in the world of books and libraries and end tables is nothing more than a continuation of the weaving of the tapestry of life. As Emerson says, there is no thread in this tapestry that is not a twist of old and new.

When looked at this way, I can let go of the notion that new will conquer old, or that either one will push the other out of existence. Each has its place in the tapestry. We can coexist.

I will not, ever, stop purchasing books, that I know.  But today, I find myself considering the possibility of including an e-reader to my library. As one friend put it, it's great for the "throw-aways."

Which only serves to bring up another touchy subject. Who, in their right mind, would EVER throw a book away?


George Gershwin was another artist who knew the value of twisting the old with the new. His genius may have been born, in part, from the serendipitous time of his birth. The composer and pianist was born at the dawn of the Jazz Age, but as a son of newly immigrated Russian parents, was trained in the European classical tradition. His work has appeared on the stages of every genre of music, on Broadway, in Hollywood, and in concert halls around the world.  

This piece, "Rhapsody in Blue," is certainly his signature composition. Many versions abound, but I selected this version, which brilliantly captures the idea of the melding of the disciplined passion of classical with the passionate abandon of jazz. Concert pianist Lang Lang joins jazz great Herbie Hancock for this delightful performance. It's hard to tell who's enjoying himself more, but one thing's for sure...it's contagious. Enjoy!

Today, let go of an old notion and find peace with the new.

Stopping by the Woods



Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Morning
Weldon Spring, Missouri



 

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

 by Robert Frost


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow...


Let me acknowledge here and now that I revere poets and poetry. 

My father used to read and recite poetry regularly to his six offspring, and his passion for it was obvious. It spilled from him like a fountain when he spoke, and it soaked into the pores of my soul.. He called poetry the "distillation of language into its purest form."  I love that definition.

I also love the fact that men and women through the ages, from Rumi to Dickenson to Ginsberg, have sought to distill language into its purest form. They continue today, those poets, trying and sometimes succeeding in distilling our thoughts, our dreams, our observations, and our love into its purest form. I am in awe of poets.

(I have a favortite poet in Blogland if you're interested. I know him only as Steven, and I know that he lives in Ontario, Canada. As many of the most esteemed poets have been, he seems an introspective person, a lover of nature, and a person with a keen sense of observation. He can see the significance in the most insignificant things. You can catch the refreshing rivulets of his poetry here; http://leakstev.blogspot.com/. But I digress...)

We are blessed with poets great and small from the Ancients to the Contemporaries if we have the ears to hear and eyes to read. And Robert Frost? Well, he's an icon of American poetry, isn't he? So who am I to judge? Well, no one. But I came away from my window this morning with the distinct impression that he had it wrong in his description of his ride through the woods on a snowy evening.

As I looked out my back window this snowy morning, I saw this deer. He's a fine young buck, a yearling, I suppose, and he was beautiful as he quietly but surely made his way through the drifts. He was in the company of a girlfriend, I think, who gingerly followed him into the woods. If you look closely at the photo, you can see the profile of her face behind the tree right next to her beau.

As I observed the pair, I had the feeling that I was intruding. They were at home here, meandering along the trees and underbrush, walking toward the pond downhill, much as I would meander into the kitchen to make the coffee early each morning.

I thought, too, as Frost expressed, that they would not see me here. I stood "to watch their woods fill up with snow..."

"Whose woods these are I think I know."

They are not ours.

Peace to you today.

In honor of the beautiful duo I spied upon this morning, I'm posting this from another incredibly beautiful duo. Here are two of the most eminent violinists in the world, Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman, playing George Frideric Handel's "Passacaglia". This duet is sometimes called "The Impossible Duet" because of its difficulty. Enjoy.

Bringing out the Cozy in Us

Famed British poet Edith Sitwell once said, "Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."

Or, more succinctly as my friend, Pam, said yesterday, "Winter snows bring out the cozy in us."

So today I'm thinking of setting the fireplace ablaze, putting on my favorite moth-eaten (well, actually the big holes in it came from the puppy, who thought it was a wonderful, fluffy toy) cozy sweater, and make some great comfort food. Maybe something white, in honor of the color scheme of the week, and something spicy, to heat up the atmosphere.

Spicy White Chili seems like just the thing for a cold winter day. This recipe comes from Taste of Home, and feeds an army...just what I need:

Ingredients:


2 pounds dried great northern beans
1-1/2 cups diced onion
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 tablespoon ground oregano
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1-1/2 teaspoons seasoned salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
4-1/2 quarts chicken broth
2 garlic cloves, minced
8 boneless skinless chicken breast halves, cubed
2 cans (4 ounces each) chopped green chilies

Directions

Sort beans and rinse with cold water. Place beans in a Dutch oven; add water to cover by 2 in. Bring to a boil; boil for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat; cover and let stand for 1 to 4 hours or until beans are softened. Drain and rinse beans, discarding liquid.

In a stockpot, saute onion in oil until tender. Combine seasonings; add half to onion mixture. Saute 1 minute. Add the beans, broth and garlic; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 2 hours.

Coat chicken with remaining seasoning mixture; place in 15-in. x 10-in. x 1-in. baking pan. Bake at 350° for 15 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink; add to beans. Stir in chilies. Cover and simmer for 1-1/2 to 2 hours or until flavors are blended. Yield: 20 servings.

May I suggest a great (white) pinot grigio from Da Vinci Wines  http://www.davinciwine.com/ourwines/ to go with this hearty meal?

We don't want to forget about mood music for the meal, either. I've chosen the "Sabre Dance" by Aram Khachaturian, played by Vanessa Mae. Vanessa is known as the "Spicy Violin Girl" for a reason. Just watch. Hey, just because you like classical music, it doesn't mean you don't like to spice it up occasionally. Enjoy!

I hope you have a cozy day...
                      with just enough spice to warm your soul.

Inside the Snow Globe

A quiet morning. A significant morning. I want to appreciate the stillness of this precious space in which I dwell today. I will remember this day. Let me remember it with love and gratitude.


In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.


Christina Rossetti
Excerpt from "In the Bleak Midwinter"

These images were made in 1885 by Wilson A. Bentley, and in

Present day by Kenneth G. Libbrecht 

http://www.npr.org/blogs/pictureshow/2011/01/18/133020570/snowflakes

http://www.its.caltech.edu/~atomic/snowcrystals/photos/photos.htm

 The music is by Giacomo Puccini's great opera, Madama Butterfly. This portion is called "The Humming Chorus. In this poignant scene at the end of Act II, Butterfly maintains a vigil through the night, waiting for her love to return. The chorus stands offstage singing this melancholy tune, foreshadowing the tragedy to come.

I wish you peace as chaste and gentle as the scene outside today.

Hold Fast to Dreams

Dreams
by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

I love Langston Hughes. I must admit I love him partly because he springs from the same roots as I, geographically speaking.  He was born in Joplin, just a stone's throw (as we say in Missouri) from Kansas City, where I was born. But more than that, I think we share the same outlook on life, finding beauty in the simple daily life that we observe.

His poetry is straightforward, not cluttered with lush words and extraneous phrasing. Yet he reaches directly down to the heart of the matter and boldly brings it up into the light. If you aren't familiar with his work, I highly recommend exploring it and other "Harlem Renaissance" poets. You might start here; http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/83.

This poem speaks to me about the dreams we all share and the dream that Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke of so eloquently. We must hold on to our dreams. We must not be distracted, dissuaded, or discouraged. Despite what others may say, the sad and negative naysayers of the world, we are closer to the dream today than we have ever been.

Happy Birthday, Dr. King. Thank you for dreaming. Thank you for sharing your dream.

My wish for you today is for you to hold fast to your dreams.


This song, "Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing," is often called the 'Negro National Anthem.' It was written by James Weldon Johnson in 1900 on the occasion of Abraham Lincoln's birthday. Johnson (1871-1938) was not only a poet, but he was a lawyer, author, politician, diplomat, educator, and anthologist. Pretty remarkable for a black man in the late 1800's. He must have held very fast to his dreams.

The language of his poetry is more lush than Hughes' but the message is the same. Stay focused on the dream, look to the future, and it never hurts to lift your voice and sing!

Disclaimer: this video was the only one I could find that included all the verses of this beautiful song. It was produced as a tribute to President Obama, so many of the images are political in nature.

Peace-able Kingdom?

"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them."  Isaiah 11:6


I imagine this verse is being emblazoned on blogs around the world today.

Last evening, President Obama visited Tuscon to speak at a memorial service in honor and support of the victims of the tragic shooting there last Saturday. Was there anyone hearing his inspiring speech for whom this verse did not bubble up from his/her soul?

I suppose there are. I'm not naive enough to think that everyone heard with the same ears I did. But what I heard was a tribute to all the victims, especially to a beautiful little girl named Christina who should, by all rights, have had an equally beautiful life. The President exhorted the nation to "place our hands over our hearts, and commit ourselves as Americans to forging a country that is forever worthy of her gentle, happy spirit."

Christina Taylor Green was, from all accounts, an extraordinary child, born on 9/11, and raised by two very loving and aware parents. It seems she was filled with many special qualities...precious gifts that will never be used here on Earth.  Such potential. Such tragic waste. Such a shame in every sense of the word.

We can debate all we want the cause and the blame for her senseless death. We can continue to point fingers and deny responsibility and create distractions.

The truth of it is harsh. As it is when any child is killed horribly, senselessly, needlessly...we all share the shame of her death. 

The light-filled spirit of Christina is now called upon to use her gifts to lead the wolves, the leopards, and the lions of this country toward a peaceable kingdom.  Of course, reason tells us that such a feat is nearly impossible. Great intellectuals have tried and failed. Lawmakers have tried and failed.  Men and women of power and influence have tried and failed. Are we really able to coexist peacefully in a kingdom of such diverse and predatory beings?  If so, it will take an extraordinary leader to do it.

It will take a child.

__________


Edward Hicks (1780-1849) was an American, self-taught artist with deep roots in Quaker life. The Peaceable Kingdom was a life-long study for him, and he painted the subject sixty-one times. This is his last version, finished shortly before his death in 1849.  I think he got it right.


Peaceable Kingdom - Edward Hicks, oil on canvas, 1849

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Snow Day

Winter Cherry Blossom by Jo Floyd Lucas

Mother Earth is kind and forgiving. Reya of the blog The Gold Puppy mentioned how the gentle snowfall made her feel. "Chill out, smile, relax," it said to her; http://thegoldpuppy.blogspot.com/2011/01/enough-is-enough.html

Last night, we were covered with a deep, fresh cover of clean white snow. It's as thick and soft and downy as a featherbed, and every bit as comforting.

The morning is cloaked in a shroud of muted shades, really still more dark than light. After recent days, this is exactly what I needed to awaken to this morning.

The snow continues to fall. With no breakfast to make, no children to wake, no tasks to take on, Mother Earth and her sweet snow speak to me;

"Rest now...

     Go...
             back....
                       to...
                             bed."

I listen and do her bidding.

Vivaldi's Four Seasons is a beautiful orchestral masterpiece. This movement, appropriately called "Winter" is today's music selection. It reflects perfectly the weather of the last few days, furious wind, icy shards, and gentle snowfall. The incredible violin soloist Mari Silje Samuelsen will be your guide through the winter landscape. Stick with the entire piece...you'll be rewarded with a fierce finale. Enjoy.

Wishing you the comfort of a downy featherbed today.